


Feel the Fear

by maqcy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Band Fic, Bisexual Male Character, Cages, Dark Past, Derek Hale Has Feelings, Derek Hale Has Issues, Derek Hale Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Established Relationship, F/M, Gay male characters, Gen, Gerald Argent is a dick, Homophobia sort of, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post Hale Fire, Shows, Slavery, Tasers, Teen Wolf, The Hale Fire, Tour Bus, Tourbus, Werewolves, bi characters, bunks, jackson being jackson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is the drummer for Wayward Eyes, a band who's popularity is fading. Werewolves have been known to the public for generations and have been enslaved, a symbol of prestige reserved for the elite. Allison Argent has owned Scott since childhood and whilst Stiles' past makes it painful for him, he's slowly got used to the docile wolf being on the tour bus.<br/>Problem is, Jackson just bought a new wolf. And whilst he's feral, he's also beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strange Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> *In this fic the werewolves shift fully (yeah, like in Twilight), just so you know*  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Edits: 20/1/17*

Scott was the band’s werewolf. He’d been bought for Allison by her father but from Wayward Eyes’ first tour he’d been a constant presence and he obeyed all of them as if they were legally his owners.

But Jackson wanted his own wolf, had since he was a child. But they’d lived in the city for much of his childhood and, though they promised him anything else, his mother had refused to buy him a wolf. Wayward’s success had given Jackson independency, but he was only reminded of his adolescent desire to have his own wolf when, as a drunken dare, Isaac had bullied Scott into shifting fully, before clambering onto Scott’s broad back. Scott had been uneasy, his ears pressed against his head, the others had laughed with Lydia snickering derisively from her perch on the tour bus steps and Isaac had swayed atop Scott, raising his bottle in a salute to the luminous half-moon before toppling off sideways to lie giggling on the floor.

Jackson had been mostly sober that night, sulking after an argument with Lydia. He’d sat a little apart from the band and watched their antics impassively, but his bottle had frozen half-way to his lips when Isaac had reached up to the moon. The hazy outlines of the road-side trees and the sound of the others’ laughter had drifted away and Jackson saw himself sat proud atop a wolf, saluting the crowd, with the stage lights as bright as the moon. The wolf didn’t have Scott’s mottled coat, standing instead as black as a shadow and tall, taller and stronger than Scott would ever be. That wolf wouldn’t cower, but roar, and that roar would be matched by the crowd. Jackson wouldn’t be a drunkard on that stage, but a king.

…

Stiles fell groggily out of bed, as he did most mornings. It was lucky he occupied the lower bunk, actually. Across the aisle from him, Erica was still comatose but the other bunks were empty.  Stiles could hear a familiar male voice further down the bus, though Stiles wasn’t yet awake enough to place it, snapping out instructions. Allison sounded like she was trying to sooth the situation. 

Lydia and Isaac were sat around the table at the front of the bus. Lydia had her bowl of nutty, wholegrain granola with soya milk and Isaac had his Lucky Charms in front of him, but neither of them were eating, instead turned to watch as Chris Argent, Allison’s father, directed two heavy-set men in work clothes who were in the process of hauling an unconscious man up the steeply climbing, narrow tour bus steps. Jackson stood watching with a smug expression on his cruelly handsome face and Stiles stared at it all in shock.

Stiles caught sight of Scott’s bare feet protruding from under the table and he warily kept his distance, aware that the wolf, in human form, was curled up at Lydia’s feet. Scott tended to treat Lydia as his second mistress when Allison wasn’t around since the girls had been friends since long before Allison got her first wolf.

Stiles was stood in stunned silence, watching as the man, a dark-haired stranger, was finally and ingloriously deposited in the narrow tour bus corridor, the workmen leaving with sour expressions. Chris threw his hands up in exasperation and paused only to smile at Allison and nod business-like towards Jackson before he followed them out and the tour bus door closed with a _svvisshh_.

It was only when Stiles saw that the collar around the man’s neck that he put the pieces together. He took in the man’s handcuffs and bound ankles at a glance but it didn’t nothing to calm his thumping heart,

“You bought another werewolf?” His incredulousness made his statement sound like a question. Jackson snorted,

“What are you gaping at Stilinski?” He smirked, knowing full-well, “It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

“You- I wasn’t told about this.” Stiles stuttered, struggling to keep his eyes off the half-naked creature lying awkward and unconscious and lethal on the floor. Stiles saw now how powerfully the stranger, the _wolf_ , was built. Even on the floor, Stiles could see that he was taller than any of them, his shoulders, his arms, his legs were all visibly stronger. This wolf could kill all them without even shifting. Stiles began to shake.

“I don’t need your permission.” Jackson said with derision and Allison gave Stiles an apologetic glance,

“I didn’t know either Stiles,” she said, “Apparently the wolf was an impulse buy.” Allison’s tone, though subtle enough that Jackson didn’t catch it, implied her disbelief.

“Jordan’s pleased, at least.” Lydia said evenly and Stiles’s eyebrows rose. He kept a careful distance between himself and the wolf on the floor. Jordan was their manager and he smiled roughly once every leap year. “Jackson’s got some extravagant plan,” Lydia elaborated, “about bringing the wolf on stage. And Jordan thinks it’ll be good publicity.”

“What? Seriously? What the hell,” Stiles stuttered, unbelieving, his eyes straying back to the wolf uneasily, “I thought we were above gimmicks like that; we got here with our music, not publicity stunts!” He threw his hands up and Lydia regarded him squarely. The true reason for his violent disagreement was plain to her, to all of them even if Jackson pretended otherwise, but Stiles hated having the subject dragged up,

“We haven’t hit the charts in months.” Lydia said and Stiles snapped his mouth shut, a muscle clenching at his jaw. Lydia's expression softened, “It won’t be for long, Stiles, just a few shows. Jackson will keep it out of the way.” Stiles refused to be mollified but his heart juddered in terror when the black-haired wolf on the floor stirred, groaning. Stiles backed up, and when the wolf opened his eyes, dark and heavy with confusion, Stiles fled down the corridor to lock himself in their tiny bathroom. He could hear Jackson laughing and curled up in a ball on the floor, his arms encircling his head as he was returned to being the small boy who couldn’t save his mother. Allison came up to the door, pleading with him to come out, but it took most of an hour along with Allison’s earnest assurances that Jackson had locked the wolf away in a cage next to Scott’s before Stiles could be coaxed out.

…

The new wolf stayed locked away but Stiles’s icy mood wouldn't be shifted and the others mostly left him alone. They had a show the following night, only another one in a long line of performances, and Stiles was dreading it. After several hours of sulkiness and monosyllabic responses, Allison gently asked him,

“Have you tried writing about it?” Stiles immediately felt as if she was making a dig at his recent unproductivity and cutting retort was only halted by Allison’s expression of sincere concern. He sighed,

“I guess I could try.” He said, more to please his friend than anything, and was rewarded with a careful smile. He retreated to his bed and pulled the curtain closed around his bunk, opening up the window shutter to allow the uneasy afternoon light to illuminate the inside. His writing notebook had been shoved down the side of the mattress it in a fit of frustration a week ago and he retrieved it gingerly, the cover badly bent and several pages rucked up. Smoothing them out carefully, Stiles took out a pen and lent back against the headboard, taking his eyes off the blank page to look up at the underside of Isaac’s bunk above him. His heart was heavy but his head felt full of cotton wool. There was no itch to write, no feeling of need to spill his guts on the page, just a faded emptiness. Stiles wondered whether their last big hit ‘Pull me apart’ would be their last and vaguely jabbed his pen at the paper, speckling it with harsh dots and lines. The lines became jagged and he filled four pages, but his scrawl was outpouring of fear and anxiety and loathing; it wasn’t a song.

Feeling useless, Stiles tossed the book to the end of the bed and slouched down, letting the aftereffects of his emotion push him into a fitful sleep

He was woken by a horrible keening sound like the rough edge of a knife being dragged over glass. Shrouded by darkness, he struggled up from under the covers to tug his curtain aside. Allison sounded wearily uncertain but it was Lydia’s voice, irritable and scornful, that broke through,

“For God’s sake Jackson, shut him up,” she said, “we’ve got a show tomorrow.”

“I’ve tried!” Jackson snapped. A violent thump was followed by a growl that made the blood drain from Stiles’s face. The silence that followed was twice as heavy. Stiles’s feet carried him over to where the others were stood around Scott’s cage, the bus’s cool night time lights illuminating their faces with a blue tinge,

“Stiles.” Allison noticed him first and she turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Go back to bed, it’s okay, you don’t need to be here.”

“I’m fine.” Stiles lied in a croak. He ignored Jackson’s look of contempt and came forwards a step before freezing. The new wolf was crouched on the floor of its cage, a terrible, grating growl coming from its throat though it was still entirely human; the cage didn’t look big enough to even begin to accommodate this wolf if he were to shift. Jackson yelled in a fit of frustration and kicked the cage bars violently, swearing at the wolf. When he broke off, the wolf continued growling with a determined intensity that was entirely animal,

“Jesus Christ.” Stiles muttered quietly. Allison came over to touch his arm in a gesture of comfort but he barely felt her. Scott was in the adjacent cage and keeping well back though he was whining gently, his pleading tone full of distress. The black-haired wolf took its glaring eyes off the humans just once to snap at Scott and the smaller wolf fell silent, cowering back. Allison’s eyebrows buckled,

“Easy, Scott,” she soothed, her arms folded across her chest, “Easy, boy.” He looked up at her with soft, doleful eyes, a stark contrast to the feral hatred in the new wolf’s dark ones.

The wolf turned its savage gaze to Stiles and Stiles stared right back, held captive by those eyes. He vaguely saw Lydia glance between them and even Jackson seemed unseated as Stiles took a step, then another, forward. Allison took Stiles’s arm as if to prevent him but he pulled away, never breaking eye contact with the wolf. Looking into those eyes and knowing that it couldn’t hurt him made him feel more separated from his past and he folded himself down to sitting with unusual grace, barely half a meter between him and the wolf, silent though its eyes were dead set on Stiles’s light brown ones. There was a tension-thick silence for several long moments before the wolf seemed to gather itself slightly to lurch towards Stiles, snapping and snarling furiously, its canines extended. Stiles flinched, but he stayed sat where he was,

“You wouldn’t be so calm if I was on the other side of these bars.” The wolf said, its voice gravelly. Stiles was quiet, “I can hear your heart pounding, human.” The wolf sat back slightly to glare when Stiles remained silent, studying the slender, freckled human sat rigidly in front of its cage, “You reek of fear, and dread,” the wolf observed.

“You can’t hurt me.” Stiles said quietly, feeling Allison move beside him to put a hand on his shoulder. The wolf eyes darkened and it flashed its teeth as it looked between them, though it didn't respond. It quieted reluctantly but there was a promise of violence in those black eyes that made Stiles’s heart shudder as he got shakily to his feet and stumbled away,

“Stiles-” Allison started but he shook his head, retreating to his bunk to slink under the covers. For once too exhausted for his mind to start spinning in circles, he gratefully slipped back into unconsciousness.


	2. Feeding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some words said in a moment of passion split the band. Stiles just can't keep well away from the wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all written today, thanks to the interest I received on the story. Hope you all enjoy!

Stiles walked up on stage feeling ill. The new wolf had either keened or growled for the majority of the morning and despite Jackson’s hot-tempered threats, Lydia’s more blood-chilling ones and Scott’s pleading, the wolf had persisted. The noise set them all on edge and eventually, frustrated, Erica had strode over to the wolf with her Taser in hand and quietly promised that she would shock the wolf to hell and then gag it if it didn’t shut up. With a withering glower, the wolf finally stopped, its ears jammed back against its head in pure loathing. Erica had flicked her hair and laughed but the wolf scared Stiles. It was a predator and a killer and Stiles wouldn’t trust it not to bite the hand that feeds it.

Wayward Eyes’ fans had dwindled somewhat after their initial success a couple of years back and the band had been backtracked to do what Jordan called ‘intimate gigs’ at smaller venues. Stiles did his part, keeping a thick, steady beat as Lydia strutted across the stage like a goddess, Allison standing off to the side making her fingers dance on her guitar, the spotlight on the red highlights in her dark hair made it look like it was aflame. Jackson supported Lydia on vocals with a throaty baritone and Isaac was their bassist. Erica chipped in on keyboard and backing vocals, though she joked she was more there for visuals.

The show ended late and Stiles trailed behind the others as they staggered back up to the bus. Their loud voices, high on the rush of the crowd and after-show drinks, jarred Stiles and he kept a distance. He saw Jackson, supported by Lydia, take a flask from his jacket and swallow whatever liquor it was that he kept in there. Scott padded happily over to meet Allison as they came up the steps and she met him with laughing reassurance and caresses, making him preen even as his snout wrinkled in distaste at the alcoholic stench that Stiles knew was on them.

Stiles slid past the others, moving down the corridor towards his bunk like a marionette, feeling inexplicably exhausted. His mother’s memory had refused to leave him in peace; every auburn haired woman in the crowd made his heart judder and he struggled to concentrate, fancying that he could smell her lavender hand cream. Late at night, when the tour bus was quiet, he sometime felt a hand that wasn’t there, stroke the hair back from his forehead, leaving him to wake up cold and sweating in panic. He missed his father, in those times. He loved his friends but they didn’t know as Stiles and his father did what it was like to ache for a loved one. It made him feel alone.

Stiles paused when he reached his bunk before moving silently further down the bus to where the new wolf was being kept, glancing back to see that no-one was looking his way. Scott’s cage was empty, the door was only ever latched anyway, but the new wolf had a secure padlock on his and, as he drew cautiously closer, Stiles saw that the wolf’s wrists and ankles were still chained.

The wolf was currently laid out on its back, the small cage necessitating that its legs were bent at the knee. Its eyes were open and though at first it looked as if it was staring at the bare roof of the bus, Stiles realised after a moment that the wolf was positioned to be able to look through the slim gap at the bottom of the drawn curtains at the clear night sky above. The realisation took Stiles by surprise.

The wolf seemed to be ignoring Stiles and, in turn, Stiles stood silently, watching the wolf. After some time, after Stiles had heard the others beginning to head to bed, the rolled its head to look at Stiles. A moment passed as they regarded each other and then the wolf’s tongue flickered out over its lips. Instead of it being a predatory motion, Stiles was struck with the thought that Jackson may not have fed or watered the wolf since it arrived. The wolf turned back to the stars and Stiles stood, motionless in his indecision; this wasn’t his responsibility and he told himself that he shouldn’t care. But Stiles couldn’t leave it alone and he moved away to draw back the curtain around Jackson’s bunk,

“Hey!” Jackson protested, his voice slurred with drink, and Stiles looked on impassively as Jackson, flushed, pulled his hand out of his boxers, “Fucking asshole! Fucking warn me!”

“Have you fed the new wolf?” Stiles demanded quietly,

“What?” Jackson glared at him, though his eyes weren’t entirely focused, “It’s like the middle of the night! What does it matter?” Stiles was silent, “I haven’t fucking fed it and I’m not gonna do it now. Fuck off Stilinski.”

“You haven’t given it water either?” Jackson looked put out,

“It’s my wolf, back the fuck off. It’s not gonna die in like a day.”

“It’s been nearly three days.” Stiles pointed out but Jackson only curled his lip and yanked his curtain closed with a garbled, ‘fuck off Stilinski’. Stiles sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead in annoyance before he half-heartedly went down the bus to raid the fridge. It was relatively empty since they mostly ate at restaurants along the way and the only items in there were Lydia’s smoothies, half a milk carton, a pack of yogurts, a dubious-looking packet of ham and a shelf full of pop and beer. Scott ate much the same as they did, Stiles thought, albeit supplemented with some kind of protein paste that Allison gave him. Frowning slightly, Stiles cobbled together a plate of sandwiches, half of them ham, the others spread with Scott’s paste, the smell of which made Stiles wrinkle his nose. He emptied half a bottle of flat pop down the sink and refilled it from the tap. On an afterthought, he also fished another bottle out of the trash, assuming that Jackson wouldn’t have even thought of giving the wolf bathroom breaks.

The wolf looked to be asleep when Stiles re-entered. The light were dimmed to night-setting and the bus was quiet, all except Lydia were asleep. She had her reading light on.

The wolf opened its dark eyes, fixing them with uncanny intensity on Stiles’s shadowed form.

“I figured Jackson hadn’t fed you.” Stiles muttered, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor outside the wolf’s cage, where he’d sat on that first night. He could smell the sharply acrid smell of urine and grimaced. The wolf regarded him impassively as it smoothly came up to sitting, its head slightly tilted to fit under the low roof of the cage. Scott’s cage was still empty and Stiles guessed that Allison had had him sleeping in her bunk. She liked the company sometimes.

“Jackson?” The wolf repeated, its voice a rough growl. Stiles forced the water bottle through the cage bars before answering,

“Your owner.” He said curtly. The wolf was mostly ignoring him, focused on unscrewing the bottle’s lid and sniffing at the water suspiciously. It took a hesitant sip, sitting frowning for a moment, seeming to be holding the water in its mouth. It was several seconds before the wolf swallowed, its Adam’s apple bobbing in its throat, making Stiles turn away with a flush on his cheeks. Once the wolf was satisfied, it drained half the two-liter bottle in less than a minute, before coming to an abrupt halt, eyeing the remaining water warily, its gaze moving to Stiles. Stiles guessed at the wolf’s thoughts,

“You’ll get more.” He said awkwardly, “I’m not going to let Jackson starve you.” _However much I hate you_ , Stiles finished bitterly in his head. The wolf set the bottle down regardless, tucking it protectively into its lap, as if Stiles might try to take it away. It eyed the sandwiches next and, with exaggerated caution, Stiles pushed one through the bars, retracting his hand quickly. He didn’t trust the wolf not to try and use the plate as a weapon, though he admitted to himself that he might be somewhat paranoid.

The wolf devoured the sandwiches almost as fast as Stiles would give them to it, though he stashed away the last two,

“They’ll go off if you leave it too long.” Stiles pointed out but the wolf only narrowed its eyes at him. Stiles shrugged, pushed the empty bottle through the cage bars with a quiet crinkle of plastic, and went to leave. The wolf didn’t say a word but Stiles felt its eyes on his back as he walked away and as Stiles settled himself in his bunk, he realised his heart was thumping faster than it had done all day, even when they’d been on stage.

…

“Stilinski!” Jackson snapped and Stiles looked up from his breakfast of coffee and Lucky Charms, “You went and fucking fed it, didn’t you?” Stiles shrugged and Jackson scowled, “I’m trying to discipline it.” He snapped and Stiles was vaguely aware of Scott shrinking away under the table with a whine. The wolf hated when anyone raised their voice. Allison soothed Scott with a few words, “Are you trying to sabotage me?” Jackson pressed, furious and Stiles finally stood up, drawing the group’s attention to him,

“You gave it nothing to eat, nothing to drink, in three days, Jackson. You haven’t explained to it why, or what it’s done wrong; that’s not discipline, its neglect. For god’s sake,” Stiles glared at the other man, “You haven’t even taken him for bathroom breaks, it had to sleep in its own piss last night.” Jackson looked taken aback by Stiles’s sudden venom and stuttered to reply. Stiles went to the sink to wash his bowl. “I’ll make a deal with you, Stilinski,” Jackson said suddenly, his eyes glinting. Stiles turned around to raise an eyebrow, “I’ll pay you to look after it; feed it and that.” Stiles’s expression tightened. Jackson wanted him to stutter a refusal, to embarrass Stiles as Stiles had embarrassed him. He didn’t think Stiles would actually agree.

“I don’t want your money.” Stiles said firmly and Jackson rolled his eyes,

“You sure about that-?”

“How about you quit getting drunk after every single show.” It was a subject none of them had yet brought up with Jackson and Jackson looked affronted.

“I don’t-”

“You do.” Stiles asserted coldly, “That’s my terms. If you get drunk, the deal is off and you can clean up your wolf’s piss yourself.” Jackson scowled at him but reluctantly nodded.

“Fine.” He snapped, “Fine. It’s not like I’m a fucking alcoholic, alright. I can stop.” Stiles didn’t comment, moving instead to get the wolf something to eat,

“It needs more food,” Stiles added, “Meat. You gonna pay for that?” Jackson fished out his wallet and slapped several twenties down on the table, along with the key for the wolf’s cage,

“You sort it out.” He said and Stiles’s took them coldly, shoving the money in the back pocket of his jeans.

“You sure you want to do this, Stiles?” Lydia asked. Stiles glanced at her and then shrugged.

“It got a name?” He asked Jackson, who looked at him blankly before he said,

“I’m calling it Shadow.” Erica snorted and Isaac barked a laugh. Even Lydia couldn’t quite keep a smile off her face, “What?” Jackson demanded and Stiles smiled tightly,

“A given name?” He asked coolly.

“Hale.” Jackson said sulkily, “Joshua.” Stiles’s caught Lydia’s odd expression and he cocked his head at her,

“What is it Lyds?”

“The Hales are an ancient pack,” she shrugged, “They’re dying out now but,” she curled her lip slightly, “they were once of the very strongest.” Stiles acknowledged this with a nod before turning away. He half-heard the others discussing the Hale wolves history as he began to make the wolf eggs since he figured it could use the protein, putting together a pile of toast and a plastic beaker of milk. Erica and Allison had moved on to talking about increasing their media presence and Isaac was trying in vain to coax Jackson into conversation.

“I- sir? Mr Stiles?” Scott spoke hesitantly and Stiles stilled. Scott very rarely addressed Stiles directly and Stiles had to squash the echoes of another voice, mocking him. A scream, “-drink milk.” Stiles only caught the end of what Scott had said and he snapped an stony ‘what?’ that made Scott cower and Allison frown disapprovingly,

“What was that?” Stiles repeated in a slightly more even tone and Scott haltingly spoke again,

“Werewolves aren’t capable of digesting milk, sir, we can’t drink it, just, to let you know. Sir.”

“Oh.” Stiles said bluntly, watching Scott crawl back under the table, retreating from Stiles. A slightly guilty feeling sat heavily in Stiles’s stomach. He changed the milk for water, ignoring the questioning look Allison was shooting him and the knowing side glance he got from Lydia when he moved down towards the new wolf’s cage. He again to take a seat in front of the wolf’s cage. The wolf itself was sat with its back to Stiles and when it didn’t turn around, Stiles set the food and considered it distrustfully,

“What are you doing?” He demanded. The wolf slowly turned itself around. The water bottle was held in its hands and there were clear signs that the wolf had been gnawing on the top. Stiles frowned; this was puppy behavior, not for grown wolves. “Open your mouth.” He instructed. The wolf glared at Stiles and kept its mouth securely shut. “Joshua.” Stiles said, firmly, and then saw the wolf flinch, “that’s your name isn’t it?” The wolf didn’t reply, avoiding Stiles’s eyes, “Joshua.” Stiles tried again, and again the wolf flinched, “What is it?” He asked, confused by the wolf’s bizarre behavior. The wolf refused to explain itself but it slowly, grudgingly, lowered its jaw to bare its teeth. Stiles squinted at the wolf’s teeth and concluded that, now he looked, a large number were missing, especially the sharper ones at the top, “You’ve had teeth removed.” He stated and the wolf closed it mouth with a quiet clink of teeth. It seemed strangely subdued this morning and Stiles left the new water and the food in the cage before moving away,

“Erica?” Stiles asked. She was lazing on the settee, watching something trashy on T.V, “Can I borrow that Taser?” She looked over at him sleepily,

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Where is it?” She shrugged, waving a hand in the direction of her bunk. Stiles rolled his eyes and went in search of Erica’s purple Taser, bought for her by Jordan after some asshole tried to feel her up at a signing after one of their shows a few months back. Erica, Taser or no, had given the guy a black eye and kneed him in the crotch hard enough to make every male within a hundred meters wince.

Stiles found the Taser buried in Erica’s bottomless handbag and, now armed, went back to the wolf. Joshua, if that was the wolf’s name, was sat rigidly erect, watching Stiles enter with a guarded expression. Stiles was reminded of how finely tuned wolves’ hearing was; Joshua would likely have heard everything said on the bus, and probably outside it too.

“Bathroom break.” Stiles said, in way of explanation and Joshua shifted uneasily, making his restraints rattle. Stiles saw the edge of one of Joshua’s cuffs tinged with red and resolved to check it out once Joshua had pissed. He unlocked the cage warily, “You move in a way I don’t like and I’ll leave you twitching on the floor. Understand?” Joshua jerked a stiff nod and Stiles opened the cage door, pressing the Taser to Joshua’s shoulder. The wolf was painfully tense but he allowed Stiles to tug him to his feet. Standing, the wolf was taller than even Stiles would have guessed, and he was broader across the shoulders than Jackson was, even wearing his high school lacrosse kit. Joshua tilted his head back with a crack of his spine and rolled his shoulders, but the genuine discomfort on the wolf’s face prevented Stiles from taking the motions as a threat. Looking at the wolf standing, the cage looked impossibly small. “Come on.” He said wearily, wondering what the hell he was doing and why he’d agreed to Jackson’s stupid deal. He’d been thinking of Lydia and Allison and how Lydia’s face had teared up that one time when Jackson, blind drunk, had mouthed off at her, calling her a slut, saying she slept with anyone that offered. Though Lydia had turned away quickly and never mentioned it, the show of raw emotion had embedded itself in Stiles’s memory.

The wolf moved stiffly and Stiles directed him into the bathroom. There was a sink, a toilet and a tiny shower packed into the small space and Stiles felt instantly anxious with Joshua in such confined quarters with him. Stiles left the door unlocked and, having glanced around warily for anything dangerous lying around, nudged the wolf over to the toilet,

“Get on with it, then.” The wolf didn’t even scowl at him before falling to his knees in front of Stiles, his face in front of Stiles’s crotch, a hand coming up to touch Stiles’s behind the knee, “Jesus fuck!” Stiles stumbled backwards, holding the Taser out, “What the fucking hell are you doing?”

“Stiles?” Allison’s worried cry came from outside the door but Stiles’s attention was focused on Joshua, who looked, for want of better word, baffled. And scared,

“I-” The wolf’s eyes were on Erica’s Taser, “I’m sorry.” He said, like he didn’t know what he was apologising for.

“Stiles?” Allison was just outside the door,

“It’s fine,” Stiles said, slightly shakily, still staring at the wolf, “I’m fine.”

“You want me to-” Stiles cut Allison off,

“No, I’m okay,” he said, “Joshua surprised me, that’s all.” Stiles didn’t miss the wolf’s flinch as Stiles used his name again. He heard Allison sigh,

“Alright, Stiles, just call me if you want a hand, okay?”

“Sure,” he agreed distractedly, “Okay.” He heard Allison move away and saw that Joshua was shaking, “Easy,” Stiles said, unnerved, “Easy, you’re okay.” He crouched down slowly so that he was level with the wolf, “What is it? What did you that for?”

“I’m sorry.” The wolf repeated, his voice rough. He wouldn’t look Stiles in the eye and his sudden submissiveness unsettled Stiles,

“Come on, get up,” he urged and Joshua did as he told, “Go do your business over there.” He directed.

Stiles’s couldn’t afford to turn his back on the wolf, but he kept his eyes on the wall behind the wolf’s head as Joshua silently obeyed him.

“Why do you flinch every time I say your name?” Stiles asked as the wolf was washing his hands. Joshua paused but though he clearly feared Stiles’s and the Taser, he didn’t respond. Stiles sighed in frustration and Joshua flinched again. Stiles held himself still, a feat that was difficult for him, and he caught Joshua’s wary, sidelong glances as the wolf dried his still-bound hands on the towel. Stiles extended his hand then and carefully asked Joshua to put his right hand out. Just as Stiles remembered the fear Scott had elicited early on when, only the once, he’d taken Stiles’s arm unexpectedly, just to direct him, and so Stiles was careful to avoid doing anything similar to Joshua. Joshua slowly put his hand out, just above Stiles’s palm, and Stiles took it and turned it over, moving the cuff up Joshua’s arm to look at the abrasion the metal had caused. Stiles frowned slightly, looking at the slight graze, “Why isn’t this healing?” He asked, having seen first-hand wolves’ incredible ability to heal the most horrific of injuries. Joshua’s gaze, with none of the fire he’d had when behind bars, flickered across Stiles’s face as if to gage his sincerity,

“The metal’s got Wolfsbane in it.” He said quietly.

“Ah.” That explained it. Stiles’s released the wolf’s wrist and, the Taser in contact with Joshua muscled shoulder, they moved back out into the corridor. Allison was perched on the edge of the settee, looking anxiously down the corridor and she jumped up when Stiles emerged with one hand on Joshua’s arm, the other holding the Taser.

“Stiles.” She said, giving him an anxious smile. He nodded at her before directing Joshua back to the cage. Joshua’s shoulders sunk perceptibly when he saw where Stiles meant for him to go but he didn’t resist. Once the padlock was back on, Stiles backed off, leaving Joshua alone. He went over to the kitchen and collapsed into the seat beside Allison, “What happened?” She asked quietly, putting a hand on his arm. Stiles, aware that Joshua would be able to hear every word they said, jerked his head for her to follow him outside. Lydia stood up to follow them off the bus and Jackson trailed after, acting like the whole thing was ridiculous,

“All because Stiles gave a little squeal,” Stiles distinctly heard him mutter, “It’s not like it’s unusual.” Stiles ignored him. Allison walked at his side and together they made a short way down the grass verge at the edge of the car park where the bus had stopped for the night. Stiles sat down on the curb and Allison joined him,

“He tried to suck me off.” Stiles said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was hard and tight. Jackson burst out laughing,

“For God’s sake Stilinski!” He guffawed, “ _that’s_ what’s this is about? Just because everyone can see you’re gay a mile off-”

“Jackson.” Lydia’s tone was cautionary but Jackson was still laughing,

“Why the hell would you object? Cus it’s a wolf? It’s not like Allison doesn’t get any from Scott-”

“Jackson!” Lydia took Jackson by the arm to drag him back to the bus. Stiles heard her muttering,

“Insensitive arse sometimes.” She cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder. Allison sighed quietly, but she didn’t speak, waiting for Stiles to say whatever he needed to,

“He didn’t want it.” Stiles exclaimed after a few moments, “He was terrified. And resigned. And god the look on his face.” Stiles put his head in his hands, “I didn’t- I would never-”

“Stiles, it wasn’t your fault,” Allison soothed him gently with an arm around his shoulder, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why the hell did he do that? Scott- Scott loves you. He’s happy. Right?” Allison nodded, looking surprised,

“Of course he is, Stiles. He’s mine.”

“How do you know?” Stiles demanded, “Have you asked?” Allison frowned slightly,

“Well no. But he wouldn’t leave.” Stiles stood up suddenly,

“You need to ask him.” He said and a flash of anger crossed Allison’s face,

“What are you suggesting?” She snapped, “I would never- do anything to Scott, I would never hurt him, don’t you know that?”

“Yeah but-”

“But what?” She demanded, “What’s this sudden activism shit,” Allison’s eyes flashed at him and Stiles took a step back, “You hate wolves!”

“I don’t-” Stiles growled back, “I don’t hate wolves! I just- you know what, fuck you. How can you say that?” His chest tight with emotion, Stiles stood up, heading away from the bus as fast as he could. He saw a flash and blinked in shock as a man came up to him with a camera,

“What’s happening, Stiles?” The stranger’s tone couldn’t be described as anything but hungry, “A little tiff between you and Allison? Wayward’s falling apart isn’t it? Anything you want to tell the camera, Stiles?” Stiles barely held himself back from swearing and blocked the camera lens with his hand,

“No comment.” He said, as evenly as he could manage. The journalist wouldn’t relent and Stiles was driven back to the bus, closing the door firmly behind him. He was met with a teary faced Allison with Lydia at her shoulder, looking like an avenging angel,

“What are you playing at Stiles?” She demanded, “Allison was _supporting_ you. We all know your mom’s background but to start pushing that FFW stuff-” Stiles was suddenly, viciously furious,

“Don’t you fucking dare bring my mom into this.” He said, “Don’t you fucking dare.” He kicked of the one the kitchen cabinets hard enough that the door came off its hinges. Scott cringed at Allison’s feet. “Have you asked him?” Stiles demanded, “Have you ever even considered-”

“Scott has no idea what he wants!” Erica snapped and Stiles turned to glower at her, “He’s a wolf, an animal! They’re not human!”

“Can’t we all just-”

“Shut up Isaac,” Jackson butted in, “This is just getting interesting.” Everyone turned to glare at him and Jackson’s smug expression withered slightly, “What?” Jackson demanded, “You want me to say what we’re all thinking?” Lydia went to interrupt but Jackson overrode her, turning to Stiles, “A fucking wolf killed your darling activist mommy; they’re savages and you’re an idiot if you’re gonna stand up for them.” There was a stunned silence, broken when Allison reached out to him,

“Stiles-” She started but he blew her off, choosing the cowards way out as he fled down the corridor. God he couldn’t face Jackson’s abrasive cruelty, Lydia’s accusations or Allison, well-meant but clueless. He heard Allison coming after him and he kept going until he was in the end room where the wolves’ cages were and he slammed the door closed, turning the bolt. It and the bathroom doors were practically the only doors that locked on the bus. Stiles could hear Allison pleading for him to come out but he ignored her and collapsed in the corner. He stayed there for several hours, letting his breathing settle. He could feel Joshua watching him.

It was near eleven and the bus began to move off. Stiles unlocked the door but he made it clear to Allison that he didn’t want to talk. He sat instead on top of Scott’s empty cage, watching the world go past the window. The day faded into lazy afternoon.

Joshua was either asleep or feigning it. Stiles noticed the wolf’s water bottles for the first time; one was empty, the other contained a few inches of dehydrated piss, and Stiles felt like an asshole. Whilst he’d been sulking, Joshua had missed lunch, and Stiles hadn’t given the wolf anything to drink since breakfast. He swore quietly and went to fix the wolf something. Only, he found the fridge empty of anything useful and he fingered Jackson’s now-crumpled twenties in his back pocket. He leant back on the counter and gave the sorry-looking cupboard door, hanging off its hinges, a regretful glance.

Sighing, he walked up front to speak to the driver, ignoring Erica, sat watching T.V and Lydia, studying at the table, but he felt their eyes tracking his movements,

“We near a supermarket?” He asked the driver, Alex, who jumped in her seat,

“Shit Stiles! Gave me a hell of a fright!” Stiles apologised and Alex shrugged in response, keeping her eyes on the road, “I dunno. Why? What do you need?”

“Food for the new wolf.” Stiles admitted and Alex hummed thoughtfully,

“Well sure,” she said, “I’ll find somewhere and bring us in, okay?” Stiles nodded,

“Sure,” he agreed, “Thanks.”

“Not a problem, freckles.” She gave him a passing smile before turning back to the open highway.

They didn’t pull into the store until near dinner time and whilst Stiles’s stomach was beginning to growl, a strange sense of pride wouldn’t allow him to eat until he’d fed Joshua. It didn’t seem fair for him to eat when it was his fault Joshua was hungry.

Allison tried to insist on accompanying Stiles but, as the only neutral parties, Stiles would only let Isaac and Scott come with him to the store. He stocked up on meat, mostly canned, since the cooking facilities on the bus were pathetic, and a mix of human food and wolf-specific, as well as other vitamins and carbs. He’d needed Scott to tell him what Joshua could and couldn’t eat and Stiles was surprised by the number of things wolves weren’t able to have; onions and garlic were out, chocolate was indigestible, avocado and specific nuts were a no-go and they couldn’t cope with any sort of caffeine,

“I swear I’ve seen you drinking Allison’s coffee!” Stiles had protested. Scott had looked sheepish,

“Miss Allison has decaf coffee, sir. She says it’s because she doesn’t want to get addicted, but,” Scott had shrugged and Stiles had rolled his eyes. Scott acted as if he was so smitten with Allison that it was painful to see. Allison regarded Scott as a beloved pet, but nothing more than that. Stiles relaxed in degrees, talking absently to Scott as they traipsed round the store with Isaac trying to slip chocolate milk and Ben and Jerry’s into the shopping cart. The appearance of a strange wolf at another shopper’s side set Stiles on edge again but Scott noticed instantly and moved to put himself between Stiles and the other wolf. It was an act of thoughtfulness that made Stiles warm towards the wolf. Since Joshua had arrived, Stiles had begun to find Scott more bearable to be around. It made him to smile bitterly to think about, but compared to Joshua, Scott was perfectly obedient and apparently entirely harmless.

“Thanks.” He muttered as they were paying and the wolf pretended not to know what Stiles meant.

Erica had ordered in a couple of pizzas and Stiles grabbed a couple of slices of pepperoni in passing as he, Isaac and Scott dumped the shopping bags on the counter, shoving things into the fridge haphazardly until the shelves were stocked with a vegan’s nightmare. It was nearly eight o’clock and Stiles was anxious to give Joshua his meal,

“Perfect little bitch for that wolf.” Jackson muttered. It was quiet enough that Stiles could pretend not to hear and still hold onto his pride. He swore he’d get back at Jackson somehow. Later. Stiles heaped Joshua’s plate with some of the pepperoni pieces scraped off the pizza, a boiled leg of chicken, boiled potatoes and a dollop of paste, one made for humans since the wolf one had smelled so awful. Stiles was dissatisfied with it, it looked bland and tasteless to him, but it was what the internet recommended for wolves’ stomachs and Stiles didn’t want to accidentally poison Jackson’s likely insanely expensive wolf, however ill-tempered it was. Joshua’s hair was such an inky black that Stiles could easily imagine that, fully-shifted, Joshua would have a stunningly pure pelt. He indistinctly remembered Lydia saying that a flawless black coat had been a characteristic of the Hale pack. Wolves like that were rare, and they didn’t come cheap.

Joshua was again laid on his back when Stiles entered into the small end room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him. The sun was fading and the bus’s night-lights were just coming on, illuminating the ceiling and floor. The stars weren’t out just yet but Joshua’s gaze was still on the sky and Stiles wondered what, if anything, the wolf was looking for.

Joshua came up to seated when Stiles moved to sit down and Stiles didn’t miss Joshua’s wide-eyed look at the food,

“Sorry you didn’t get lunch.” Stiles muttered. One of the other things he’d bought at the store had been paper plates to put the wolf’s food on and he bent the plate now to push it through the bars of Joshua’s cage, along with a plastic fork. Joshua picked up the fork clumsily, like he hadn’t used one in a long time, but he got the hang of it and began shoveling food into his mouth with a single-mindedness that saddened Stiles. He turned away slightly to eat his own pizza. Joshua had cleared the plate before Stiles had even started on his second slice, and then sat looking uneasy. Stiles finished his pizza before putting his plate down and giving Joshua a heavy look, “We have to talk about what happened earlier.” He said. Joshua seemed to shrink into himself, curling his shoulders protectively inwards. The defensiveness sat badly on the wolf’s features. Stiles set his lips, though the food was sitting heavily in his stomach, “Why did you do that, Joshua?” Joshua didn’t flinch this time, but Stiles still caught the slight stiffening and he pressed on, “And you’ve got to explain why I can’t say your name.” Joshua seemed to have to gather himself to say,

“It’s what my previous owner expected of me.” Joshua didn’t wait to allow Stiles to reply, “And it’s not my name, sir.” Stiles’s eyebrows climbed, both at the admission and the honorific,

“Jackson said it’s the one on your papers.” Stiles stated. The wolf only shrugged, “You know it though,” Stiles observed, waiting for the wolf to deny it. He didn’t. “Whose name is it?” Stiles pressed,

“My brother’s.” The wolf’s head was bowed so Stiles couldn’t make out his expression but the pain in the wolf’s voice was blatant, “He’s dead.” There was a heavy pause before Stiles spoke again,

“What is your name then?” The wolf’s answer was so quiet that Stiles almost missed it,

“Derek Hale.”


	3. Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something about Derek's past that doesn't add up.

“Derek.” Stiles tried the name out. Stiles thought it fitted; it was a little harder than Joshua, older and sharper. The wolf, Derek, was watching him, “Why would your brother’s name be on your papers?” Derek shrugged and didn’t answer, “How did he die?” Derek’s gaze was on the floor now and Stiles released a heavy breath in defeat, “Fine.” He said, “Don’t talk. I get it’s painful.”

“Why did Jackson buy me?” Derek’s soft question pulled Stiles up short,

“He’s planning to take you up on stage sometime.” Stiles said slowly. Derek grunted. His voice, when he asked the next question, was harder, though still quiet, like he didn’t think he was allowed to ask,

“How did your mother die?” Stiles stiffened at that,

“You already know.” He said shortly. “You heard Jackson talking about it.” Stiles saw Derek narrow his eyes slightly, though he didn’t speak for a while. Stiles looked out at the setting sun and thought how painful it would be to look at the night sky through the bars of a cage.

“Most people don’t know about our hearing.” Derek replied after a short while, his tone guarded,

“Most do know, if you were to ask them,” Stiles replied, “but they don’t think twice about it. They don’t remember it when they’re discussing you and you’re out of sight in the next room.” Derek made a noise of affirmation, “Why did you ask?” Stiles wanted to know. Derek’s voice was careful when he answered,

“I wanted to hear you say it. To figure out how you felt about it.” Stiles stared at the wolf,

“You wanted to figure out how I felt about my mother dying?” He asked, incredulous. Derek winced and shook his head, his jaw clamped shut. Stiles was reminded of their relative positions. Just because he’d answered Derek’s questions didn’t mean they were equal. Stiles felt a surge of anger, “Screw you.” He said, “You don’t get to ask me stuff like that.” He snatched up his plate and moved for the door, “Should’ve known better.” He muttered, slamming the door shut behind him. He dumped his plate in the trashcan and banged the lid down with a crash that made Allison, sat reading on the coach, jump. Scott, sat near her feet, whined.

“Who pissed in your Slushy?” Erica quipped from her bunk. Stiles ignored her, moving down the too small corridor into the tiny bathroom to change for bed. His anger faded quickly but he felt no desire to do anything but sleep.

And yet, lying in bed, Derek kept going round his head. How had Derek’s brother died? Why would his brother’s name be on the papers that were supposed to be for him? Were they a forgery?

Stiles got up and went over to Jackson’s bunk, pulling back the curtain. Jackson was reading a comic and looked sharply irritated to be disturbed again,

“What?” He snapped. Lydia, hidden behind her curtain, shushed him. Jackson glared at Stiles, “What?” He repeated more quietly,

“Where did you buy the wolf- Joshua from?” Jackson gave Stiles a look of exasperation. He went to pull the curtain closed with a glare, “Where are his papers?” Stiles pulled the curtain out of Jackson’s reach,

“What is wrong with you?” Jackson snapped, snatching at the curtain again, “ _Fuck off_.”

“Papers.” Stiles said, obstinate.

“They’re in the fucking drawer under my bed. Can you fucking leave me alone now?” Stiles rolled his eyes and tugged Jackson’s curtain closed, hearing Jackson mutter ‘little shithead’, before crouching down to pull open Jackson’s drawer. He ignored the crumpled clothes, tangle of electronics and bottle of lube and found the wolf’s papers under Jackson’s pile of comics; most of them vintage and worth a fortune, though they generally sat gathering dust.

The picture on the front of the wolf’s papers was definitely Derek; the same jagged angles, dark hair and half murderous, half vulnerable look on his face. He looked worse in the picture than he did now; his noticeably paler skin making the wine stains under his eyes look deeper, his eyes open a little too wide giving the picture an edge of pain. Stiles’s brow crumpled and he pushed Jackson’s drawer closed, sliding back onto his bed, cracking his head painfully on Isaac’s bunk above, to draw his curtain and flick through Derek’s file. The first thing he noticed was how thin it was. He’d handled dozens of wolves’ files when he had been looking into his mother’s death as an adolescent, however much his father had said it would come to nothing, and all of them had been thicker than Derek’s was. There ought to be comprehensive medical records, legal documents filled out by each owner, psyche tests, references, etc. But there was little more than the basic height, weight, age. It was bizarre and Stiles became more intrigued the more he scanned over it, genuinely interested in something for the first time in a while. The less information he was given, the more it made him want to find what was missing. But for now, Stiles stuffed the file down the side of his bunk and flicked off his reading light. He would think about in the morning.


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles remembers how reliant Derek is on him.

Stiles, and everyone else, was woken by Derek’s howling. The dawn light was only just breaking through and Stiles groggily struggled out from his bed to stand only to be startled by a rough shout from Jackson’s bunk,

“Shut the fuck up wolf!” There was a thick silence, followed by a series of growls and whimpers that set Stiles’s blood on edge. Awake now, he moved quickly down to the end room and shoved the door open,

“Derek?” He said quietly,

“Stiles, sir,” Scott’s low voice made him start and Stiles had to look quickly away when he saw Scott’s eyes blinking a pale gold in the dim light, “It’s a nightmare, I think, sir. He’s not misbehaving on purpose, sir.” Stiles grunted quietly in response and avoided looking at Scott. Derek was outlined by the pale glow of the night time lights and Stiles moved over to the wolf’s cage, “Sir?” Scott’s voice jolted him again, “I’m just going to step out, sir, and go to Mistress Allison, if that’s okay?”

“Uh yeah, of course.” Scott moved slowly, slipping out of the room and Stiles looked after him in a slight daze. Stiles couldn’t help but think that Scott’s departure was because he knew how he unnerved Stiles, and wanted to make him comfortable. It was considerate and Stiles thought that, if he weren’t a wolf, Scott would have been a good guy.

A soft growl made Stiles turn back to Derek, finding the wolf staring back at him with two blue eyes,

“Shit.” Stiles muttered. Derek blinked and the blue was gone,

“What do you want?” He snapped, “You said you weren’t interested.” Derek’s accusation took several moments to sink in and Stiles baulked,

“Do you always jump to the worse conclusions?” Stiles retorted, his tone slightly harsh. Stiles was tired and the memory of their earlier conversation still made Stiles scowl, “I’m not here to- to fuck you. You were calling out, in your sleep, Scott said.” Derek grunted and looked away, “Bad dream?” Derek’s glare was withering and Stiles rolled his eyes, “Fine.” He said and went to leave,

“Wait.” Derek’s voice was quiet, strained. Stiles paused, “Can I- can I go to the bathroom?” Derek’s request turned Stiles’s stomach and forcefully reminded him that this being, this _wolf_ , now relied on Stiles for every one of his needs. When Stiles doesn’t immediately answer, Derek added, softly, “Please.”

“Sure.” Stiles said quickly, “Just give me a second.” He had to move back to his bed to dig out his jeans with Derek’s keys in the back pocket, and the Taser from his drawer before returning to Derek. Stiles felt the way the muscles in Derek’s shoulder tightened when he put his hand there to guide Derek up out of the cage, the Taser pressed against the opposite shoulder blade.

“I’m not gonna do anything.” Derek said, his voice lowered as they moved over to the bathroom,

“I don’t trust you.” Stiles replied simply and Derek said nothing more. Stiles turned the tap on while Derek was relieving himself and looked at the wall behind Derek’s head, keeping the Taser between them regardless. He returned Derek to his cage, securing the padlock before hovering,

“Why are your eyes blue?” He asked. Derek was silent and Stiles huffed in annoyance. A moment passed before Stiles turned away. Derek’s voice halted him again, but this time his words were thick with disbelief,

“That’s it?” He demanded, “You’re just going to leave? Not hit me or zap me with that ridiculous purple Taser?”

“No?” Stiles said, frowning, “No. Of course not.” Derek was silent. It crossed his mind to wonder how good exactly Derek’s eyesight was,

“How well can you see me?” He asked curiously, moving to perch on the edge of the padded bench opposite,

“You’re as clear as if it was midday.” Even without seeing the glint of Derek’s teeth, Stiles would have been able to hear the smirk in the wolf’s voice. He huffed a quiet laugh,

“That’s- kind of cool.” Derek didn’t reply, but his silence wasn’t as heavy as it had been previously. After a minute Stiles asked,

“Can you smell me too?” There was quiet huff and if Stiles didn’t know better he would have thought it was a laugh,

“You haven’t changed your shirt since yesterday. You’ve had sugar-free gum recently and you have gel in your hair.”

“I haven’t put hair gel in since,” Stiles paused, unsure, and Derek said,

“The day before yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, amazed, “You can tell all of that?” In the light of the slowly rising sun, Stiles saw that Derek’s gaze was fixed on the floor, as if thinking of another place, another time,

“My mother-” Derek broke off before he really started, a clenched muscle in his jaw catching the warm light as he turned to the window. Stiles didn’t press him, only laid back. A heavy breath and he heard Derek shift position. Looking over, he could that Derek was lying down and Stiles relaxed slightly, rolling onto his side to get more comfortable. It wasn’t long before he was asleep.


	5. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone from Derek's past makes a dramatic entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... ignoring that it's been ages since I updated, I hope you like this newest installment!

The roar of the crowd was physical, bigger than anything they’d had for months, and Stiles clenched his hands, sweat loosening his grip on his sticks. The band didn’t require much of him; a steady beat for the most part with the occasional flourish. He got a short solo in most shows where he’d demonstrate some of the rhythms that set his heart thudding and, just for a time, made him concentrate enough to take him out of reality; just a pulse, an impact made up of vibrations and bright lights.

But today, every movement was an effort and Stiles had told Lydia that he didn’t want to do a solo this show. She hadn’t asked any questions.

Stiles realised that he had stopped paying attention when the noise of the crowd surged and Stiles refocused to see Jackson bringing Derek on stage, fully shifted. Stiles tensed, shifting uneasily. Stiles’s recalled Jackson unpacking the restraints he’d bought for the wolf; state of the art equipment that could sense the electrical signals that came just before a wolf shifted and would contract or expand as required to fit a man’s chest as well as wolf’s, never mind the stories Stiles had heard about them shrinking too early and crushing a wolf’s ribs, ‘What does it matter?’ Jackson had said, ‘He’ll just heal’. Derek wore them now, the silver harness around his barreled chest glowing against his oil-black fur.

Derek was brutally beautiful as a wolf. He was easily the largest wolf Stiles had ever seen with his back level with Jackson’s shoulder, his skull pierced through with two burning blue eyes. Despite his size, he was lean, his legs long and graceful, his ears were neat points as they flickered back and forth independently of each other before lying back against his skull as he cringed away from the crowd. The crowd’s cries increased and the scant flesh of Derek’s snout was drawn back to expose a vicious set of teeth, muscles coiling along his back and shoulders as he tilted forwards, snarling.

Jackson was flushed with glory, his hand on Derek’s collar arrogantly; as if he could stop Derek from tearing him to pieces if Derek took it into his head to do so. The restraints were attached to a sliding mechanism on the stage which could be locked if need be and this moved as Jackson led Derek into the center of the stage.

A voice buzzed in Stiles’s ear, and from Allison’s slight frown, he knew the rest of the band also heard it,

“Commotion at the back of the crowd with a half-shifted female wolf. Security on it now.” And Stiles could see it; the crowd was a throbbing mass but there was a disruption in its rhythm at the rear. Allison touched her ear,

“Lydia, let’s play. Distract them.” Lydia nodded and strutted forwards to come to Derek’s other side, smoothing a hand over his fur. Stiles saw Derek flinch but he didn’t otherwise react. He was as taut and still as a photograph, his head held high and legs slightly bent, motionless. Stiles had to admire his control.

Stiles could see Lydia’s wicked smile on the screens and though he didn’t listen to her words, he knew the crowd would love her. They always did. Allison started up ‘Heal my heart’ on her guitar and Stiles synced his drum beat to her. He had to concentrate slightly since this was one of their newer songs, but that was precisely why Allison had chosen it, Stiles guessed, because the crowd would want to listen. They wouldn’t get distracted by whatever else was going on.

The next time Stiles looked up from his drums, it was because he heard the screams. Lydia, Jackson and Erica had faltered on vocals and Allison’s guitar trailed off, all of them staring out at the crowd. Stiles got to his feet unsteadily, feeling the sweat sticking his shirt to his back as he looked out past Derek’s frozen figure to the crowd. There was a disturbance rippling through the center of the crowd, someone or something forcing their way down the center, eliciting screams from fans. Stiles watched as the people in the crowd scrambled to get out of the way of whatever was coming, parting to reveal a black wolf uncannily similar to Derek heading single-mindedly for the stage,

“Derek?” Stiles’s quiet query seemed loud with the crowd as hushed as they were and he found his legs carrying towards Derek. But before he reached the wolf, Derek lifted himself to stand tall, taller than Jackson, who was backing warily away. Then he howled. The sound was impossibly powerful, carrying across the crowd so that Stiles thought it must have been heard for miles around, and the hairs all along Stiles’s bare arms and on his neck tingled and stood on end, “Jesus.” He muttered. Then Derek’s howl was returned, the crowd backing away to reveal a wolf, its head thrown up and back as it echoed Derek’s howl, starting forwards again to run towards the stage with renewed determination, people throwing themselves out of the way in terror.

“People could get crushed.” Lydia murmured in horror as they all watched, spellbound. Derek uttered a final, quiet, sad howl before he was suddenly shifting back to a man. Inappropriate as it was, Stiles felt a rush of blood to his groin as the wolf stood naked and strong in front of crowd, which was surging in horror and displeasure, cries still ringing out as the other wolf pushed its way towards the stage,

“Laura?” Derek’s hushed voice silenced the crowd. The other wolf emerged suddenly at the front of crowd at a run, clearing security guards armed and waiting with Tasers with a running leap of impossible power. The wolf landed, claws scraping the stage floor as it slid to a halt, barely a meter from Stiles. Allison was frozen with fear and Jackson had backed up to the back of the stage. The tension was palpable, the band and the thousands in the crowd waited to see what the wolf would do, security personnel coming carefully out from the wings.

But the wolf didn’t even glance at Stiles or any of the other band members but moved straight for Derek. Stiles’s breath caught and then the wolf shifted to a woman, utterly striking with hair dark as black coffee.

“Derek.” She breathed, “Derek.”

“Laura.” Derek’s eyes were blown wide as he stared at the wolf who had to be his sister, “My god.” They moved towards each other at the same time, Laura breaking into tears,

“Derek, my Derek, Der-bear.” They shifted back to wolves, circling each other with puppy yips of pleasure, Laura licking Derek’s face, the pair of them tumbling together. Derek shifted back to a man with his arms around his sister’s wolf form,

“I thought you were dead.” He said, tears streaking his cheeks,

“Joshua?” Laura asked, human hands on Derek’s shoulders. Derek shook his head and Laura pulled him towards her,

“Mom, dad? Malia?” Derek asked, almost pleading. Laura was shaking her head, “Peter? No-one?” Laura pulled back to rest his forehead against his,

“I thought I was the last one.” She said, breathless. Derek laughed brokenly,

“So did I. So did I.”

“Derek?” Stiles spoke warily, afraid of Laura’s reaction. They’d been so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t seen security creeping closer. Derek jerked his head up to regard Stiles with wide eyes, _you’re still here?_ He seemed to say, before he twisted around, taking in the crowd, the band, frozen in shock, and security armed with Tasers.

He instantly put himself in front of Laura, staring at security in blatant fear. His restraints clicked as he moved and Laura seemed to notice them for the first time, her expression wrinkling in disgust,

“Easy.” Stiles said, moving in front of Derek, “Those aren’t needed.” He said to security, nodding at the Tasers before looking over his shoulder at Derek and his sister, “Are they?” A brief pause and then Derek shook his head, lifting his hands, palms out. Laura had her arms around her brother’s chest, glaring around his shoulder. Stiles nodded and then raised his eyebrows until the Tasers were lowered,

“Stiles-” Allison went to say something but Stiles cut her off, turning to the crowd,

“Can we have the owner of-” he had been about to say ‘this wolf’ but changed his mind, “Laura up on stage. You’re not in any trouble, we’d just like to meet the owner of such a beautiful wolf.” A moment passed, the big screens scanning the crowd before zoning in on a young woman who was making her way through the crowd, her face flushed with embarrassment and crumpled into a frown. Stiles saw Derek turn to look at him, his hands still raised, his expression of raw pleading breaking Stiles’s heart. Stiles gave him a nod, all the reassurance he could offer. Then Laura’s owner was being escorted up on stage,

“I’m so sorry-” She started, looking mortified, “I don’t know what got into her, this has never happened before.” Stiles smiled gently,

“I know what got into her,” he said, “Derek’s her brother.” Laura’s owner couldn’t have been older than fifteen and Stiles put an arm around her shoulders, “Can you tell us your name?”

“I’m- oh wow, this is insane,” she laughed breathlessly, looking out at the crowd in amazement and then back at the band. There was some laughter from the crowd and some of the tension in Stiles’s shoulders eased. “Danny Johnston. I’m Danny.” She had her hand over her mouth, turning to look over her shoulder at the band. Lydia came over with a dazzling smile as Stiles said,

“Well, hi Danny. I’m sure you know Lydia?”

“Lydia Martin oh my god.” The crowd cheered at Danny’s blatant happiness, “This is amazing.” Lydia laughed easily and hugged Danny. Over the girl’s shoulder Lydia jerked her head in Derek’s direction and Stiles nodded,

“And have you got a song request, Danny?” Lydia asked as Stiles beckoned Derek towards the wings. The band were breaking into ‘Angels’, the technicians improvising flawlessly, playing a recording of Stiles’s drumming even as he was taking Laura and Derek off stage, Danny following after.

Derek seemed overwhelmed by it all, Laura growing protective, glaring at Stiles when he turned his attention to the two naked wolves.

“You’re the older one, aren’t you?” Stiles guessed as he sent an aide away for clothes for Laura and Derek, though both of them seemed to care nothing for their nakedness. Not, Stiles thought, that they hadn’t to be ashamed of.

“Yes. Sir.” Laura’s tone couldn’t have been more disrespectful if she’d tried but she was clearly wary of him and Derek was staring into space, breathing hard,

“You’re alive.” He said quietly, though he wasn’t focusing on Laura, “I can’t believe-” Laura cupped his face in her hands,

“It’s true, Der. I’m here, I’m real.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek blurted suddenly, “I’m sorry we argued. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m so sorry.” Laura looked at him, baffled,

“We argued?” Derek stared at her a moment,

“Yeah,” he laughed suddenly, “Yeah. Before the fire? I wished I’d had the chance to apologise.” Laura looked shamefaced,

“I don’t even remember.” She admitted and Derek laughed harder,

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “it doesn’t matter. God, it doesn’t matter at all. I missed you.” Derek pulled Laura against him and they laughed quietly. Their happiness made Stiles tearful and he dragged a sweaty forearm across his eyes, turning his head away. When he looked back, Laura was watching him distrustfully,

“Are you Derek’s owner? Sir.” She asked. Stiles shook his head,

“What the hell!” Danny broke in suddenly, moving towards Laura to slap her hard across the face. “Disobedient bitch!” Laura flinched back but said nothing, Derek moving instantly to defend his sister, even as Laura protested against him quietly and Danny looked at him in surprise. Stiles stepped in quickly to take Danny’s arm,

“Hey Danny, I don’t think Laura was trying to be bad, she just loves her brother. They haven’t seen each other in a long time.” Stiles looked over at the pair, watching him with identical expressions of wariness. It saddened Stiles more than he cared to admit but he pushed away his own tangle of feelings and focused on Danny, still frowning, “They didn’t think they’d ever get to see each other again. Laura’s sorry, aren’t you?” Laura looked between Stiles and her owner before nodding,

“I’m very sorry, mistress.” She said. Her sudden meekness made Stiles think of Derek’s blank submissiveness in the bathroom and it made him sick. Danny seemed to accept Laura’s apology,

“Fine.” She said, sullen,

“It’s not all bad,” Stiles tried weakly, “you did get to meet the band.” Danny’s expression split into a smile then and she nodded, smiling at Stiles like she’d forgotten who he was for a moment,

“Yeah,” she agreed, “That was pretty awesome.” Stiles forced a smile back,

“Good. Look, the VIP lounge is through there. If you head over there, you can watch the rest of the show and afterwards, I’ll get the band to sign some merchandise for you. That sound good?” Danny was practically glowing and she nodded very fast just as the aide came back with clothes for Derek and Laura, which Stiles took off him and then asked him to take Danny over the VIP area,

“You’ll bring Laura over later?” Danny wanted to know and Stiles patted her on the shoulder,

“Sure,” he said, “Do you need to let your parents know where you are?” Danny nodded and pulled out her mobile. Stiles handed Laura some clothes as Danny was led away, only giving Derek jeans since the restraints, which only Jackson had the keys for, were too bulky to put a shirt over the top.

“I have to go back on stage.” Stiles said, feeling entirely inadequate when faced with the Hale siblings. Derek nodded, looking tired, and Stiles sighed, nodding at Laura before running a hand through his damp hair, squaring his shoulders and making his way back on stage. Wayward Eyes was just finishing up a song but there was a surge of noise when Stiles returned on stage and his grin was only partly forced when he raised his arms, settled at his drum kit and erupted into an explosive solo, something big and powerful and angry that moved to melt into their heaviest track ‘Would you?’ at the end. The crowd roared in approval and the rest of the band picked up the beat.

Stiles was buzzing with more adrenaline than he’d felt in a long time and dripping with sweat by the time they came off stage. Allison squealed and hugged him,

“You were awesome!” She exclaimed, Isaac patting him warmly on the back whilst Lydia and Jackson were doing their final waves on stage. Lydia smiled at him as she strutted over, before her attention moved over to Derek, still tethered to the stage restraints, and his sister and her expression hardened.

“Lydia,” Stiles broke in tightly, “Danny’s waiting in the lounge. I said we’d all sign some stuff for her.”

“Fucking takes the piss,” Jackson said, clearly bitter, “the kid can’t control her pet and she gets a ton of signed shit.”

“Shut up,” Stiles snapped, suddenly done with all of them. “Be nice for once. This was your fucking idea so you can man up and take the consequences. I don’t remember you doing much apart from cowering at the back of the stage when the shit hit the fan.”

“That’s not true-” Jackson snapped but Stiles only put his hand out,

“Keys.” He said flatly.

“Fuck you.” Jackson said,

“Give me the goddamned keys!” Stiles yelled before turning his head away to take a steadying breath. The Hales were watching him silently, holding onto each other like they knew that once they let go, they’d never see each other again. Lydia coaxed Jackson into handing over the keys to Derek’s restraints before dragging her boyfriend over to the lounge. Stiles accepted the keys numbly and watched them go.

“You were really brave.” Allison told him quietly before following after Lydia with Isaac at her side, leaving Stiles alone with the two wolves. Stiles looked at them and they looked back,

“Stiles-” Derek started, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“You have to go back to Danny, Laura.” Stiles said quietly, looking down at the keys as he fingered the metal,

“Yes. Sir.” She said stiffly. Derek keened quietly and Stiles swallowed thickly, lifting his gaze to look Laura in the eye,

“I’m sorry.” He said, and then moved a few paces away to let them say goodbye. He couldn’t help but hear what they said,

“I can’t lose you again, Laura please. Please don’t go.”

“I have to. Shh, Der, you’re okay. It’s okay. I’ll think of you all the time. I’ll always love you.”

“Please please don’t.”

“I have to, you know I have to. Be strong, Der, we’re Hales. Remember that.”

“No no, Laura.” Derek was crying and Stiles couldn’t bear to listen. He’d always avoided wolves, seen them as animals, as violent. And they were, sometimes. But Derek sounded so human, so much like a child, when he pleaded for Laura to stay that Stiles couldn’t bear it,

“I love you.” Laura murmured and Stiles heard her stand and turned to face her. Her face was set, “I’m ready.” She said, her voice trembling only very slightly. Stiles admired her greatly in that moment. He nodded silently, unable to look at Derek, before leading Laura towards the lounge. Laura broke the silence, “Look after him for me. Please. Sir.” Tears were leaking down Laura’s cheeks now and Stiles had to push down the urge to hug her. She just seemed like no one had held her for a long time. He put a hand on her arm instead,

“I will.” He promised, “Look after yourself as well, alright?” Laura nodded, her eyes sharp as they flickered over his face. Stiles ducked his head, uncomfortable under her gaze, and retracted his hand, leading the way back to Danny. He saw Laura wipe her face.

“Mistress.” Laura greeted Danny quietly, looking as if she’d never cried. Danny frowned at her briefly before smiling at the band,

“Thanks so much for everything,” Danny said, holding a signed T-shirt, a bag and a poster, “It was so great to meet you. I’m so sorry about everything.”

“Danny,” Stiles stepped forwards, “It meant a lot to Der- our wolf to meet Laura. Maybe if you come to another show you come bring her along again?” Danny looked between them with wide eyes, “You could even bring some friends, if you wanted?” Stiles tried and Danny grinned,

“Wow,” she laughed, “yeah, that would be so cool. Thanks!” Her phone beeped, “That’s my dad. Thank you so much!” Stiles forced a smile as she left, catching Laura’s eye to give her a more genuine one as she trailed after her owner.

Stiles didn’t see Jackson approaching until the man was barely a foot from him and he took a step back,

“That wolf is mine,” Jackson said, looking furious, “you have no fucking rights to it, you hear me? Renaming it? That wasn’t your call asshole. I found it. I bought it and had its fucking expensive arse hauled half way across the country. It’s mine and I’m selling it tonight, Stilinski. It’s fucking insane. Like you.” Stiles stared at him,

“What?” He said dumbly, “You can’t sell him.” Jackson grinned in triumph,

“Yes I fucking can.” He said, moving so he was nose to nose with Stiles, “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Jackson-” Lydia went to put a hand on Jackson’s arm but he pulled away from her,

“See you at the bus, losers.” He said, walking away and leaving Stiles reeling.

“He can’t sell him.” Stiles said to no-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I'd love to know so please please please let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading!


	6. Argent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson follows through on his threat.

“Dad, just stop, just slow down,” The Sheriff was furious but Stiles was barely able to hear him over the clamor of his own thoughts, his own terror. He guiltily wished that he’d never picked up the call but his thoughts had been so scrambled after the show that he hadn’t thought anything of answering his father.

“God, Stiles.” Stiles could hear the weariness and pain in his father’s voice and it grounded him momentarily. He knew that hurt. “I saw the footage on the news – you didn’t even call me, warn me – and I was watching it and I was terrified, terrified one of those wolves was gonna kill you, right there, in front of me. That it was gonna happen all over again and I couldn’t do a fucking thing.” Stiles sat down heavily, dropping his elbows to his knees and pressing his fingertips into his eyes. He found that his hands were shaking. “I couldn’t survive you dying.” Stiles heard his father’s voice break.

“Dad,” he said, “I’m sorry. I get it, I get why you’re angry and,” he pulled in a breath and scrubbed his eyes, “worried and hurt. But I still need you to listen to me. The past- the past can’t be allowed to colour the whole of the future, you know?” It felt like an empty phrase say to his father, even as Stiles had told it to himself many time. “Not forever.” There was silence for a moment, followed by a shaky breath.

“But it was so _dumb_ , Stiles,” The Sheriff says, clearly torn between anger and worry, “You had the whole goddamn stage and you went straight up to the thing-”

“Dad.” Stiles cut him off, standing up suddenly, jittery with his need for his father to understand, “Derek wasn’t a threat-”

“Even if that was true,” The Sheriff scoffed, “the other wolf-”

“Was focused on her brother! Who she thought was dead! Who she hadn’t seen for years!” Stiles threw his arm out in frustration and hit the bathroom wall hard enough to make the mirror shake. He fisted his stinging hand and brought it in towards his chest,

“That’s my whole point,” the Sheriff said, his voice rising, “It was out of control, and defensive of its pack and incredibly powerful-”

“Dad, I talked to her afterwards and she fucking cried, Dad, and her owner was some fifteen-year-old kid that didn’t understand. She just wanted to see her brother-”

“And what if you’d got in the way?” The Sheriff shot back, “She could have torn you apart-” His breathing hitched suddenly and Stiles was silent, listening from the other side of the country. “I want that wolf gone.” The Sheriff said, resolution heavy in his voice, “I can’t believe you were in-” A shaky breath, “It doesn’t matter now. It’s got to go.” Stiles was silent for a long time, “Stiles? You there kiddo?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said quietly. “You’ll get what you want.” He said, “Because Jackson’s selling him.”

“Good-”

“No!” Stiles yelled, “No it’s not good! It’s awful! You didn’t- you don’t know- no-one fucking understands, you don’t understand because you’ve never met him! You didn’t meet Laura and see her beg me to watch out for the brother she thought was dead!” Stiles was shaking and he slammed his hand into the bathroom wall, “You know what mom was involved in?” He hissed, “FFW. Before-” he choked, “After she died, I thought ‘how she could have thought that those animals should be free’? How could she? But I get it.”

“Stiles-”

“You fought for it too, once, didn’t you? You can’t condemn all wolves based on one murderer-”

“There were other attempts, Stiles.”

“I know that!” Stiles spat. “I researched it, remember? But Derek-”

“What?” The Sheriff said, suddenly angry, “He’s manipulated you into pitying him-”

“Shut up! It’s not-”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” The Sheriff growled and Stiles shut his mouth.

“Fine.” He growled. “Fine. Don’t listen to me. Don’t try to understand. Be blinded by your emotions like I was.” He spoke over his father trying to break in, “You’ll get what you want. Derek’s being sold to some other asshole who’ll beat him and fuck him. Are you happy now?” He cut the call off with the stab of his finger and braced his hands against the sink, shaking with emotion. Sobs crawled their way up from his chest and Stiles slid to the floor. He’d promised Laura that he’d look out for Derek and now, barely an hour after he’d made that promise, he was failing.

Stiles fisted his hands and pressed them to his forehead. He had to _think_. Stiles’ head snapped up.

He could buy Derek.

Stiles got to his feet and unlocked the bathroom door,

“Stiles, you okay?” Allison came hurrying over to him. Stiles barely glanced at her as he was reaching for his laptop. He needed to find where Jackson had posted Derek’s ad and there were tens of auction sites so-

He realised suddenly that he couldn’t allow the others to know what he was planning – not with Allison so set against wolves. So he looked up quickly to meet Allison’s where she was stood over him, frowning. Stiles raised a small smile,

“My dad was worried.” He said truthfully and Allison’s expression, which had been bordering on suspicion, crumpled into concerned understanding, “He saw the news sites,” Stiles gestured vaguely at his laptop, as if that was what he had been planning to do with it. Allison sat down on the bed beside him and pulled him into a hug,

“I’m so proud of you.” She said. Stiles hesitantly hugged her back, “You were so brave and I know how hard it must have been for you.” That was thing, Stiles thought vaguely, it hadn’t been hard at all. God knows why but he’d trusted Derek, trusted that scared creature who looked at the stars and cried at the loss of his only living relative and hid behind what was only a façade of aggression. But he couldn’t say that.

“It was pretty nerve-wracking.” He managed. Allison hugged him tighter.

“He’ll be gone soon, anyway, just like you wanted.” Stiles couldn’t prevent himself from tensing. He hadn’t forgotten his fear at seeing Derek on the floor, but that had been before. What was it he read somewhere; ‘you can’t love humanity, you can only love people’. He figured it applied to wolves, too. He forced himself to relax,

“Yeah.” He muttered. Allison pulled back to look at him, frowning again, and Stiles was shot through with a flash of fear that she was going to confront him,

“I don’t think you should look at the news sites, Stiles.” She said and Stiles laughed weakly,

“You’re probably right.” He said, “I’ll watch a movie or something.” He wished uselessly that he were a better liar.

“You want company?”

“Not right now. Sorry.” Allison brushed a hand over his hair almost maternally,

“Don’t worry. Come join us for dinner, yeah? We’ll stop off at a restaurant.

“Sure.” She finally left and Stiles drew the curtain across his bunk before diving into his research. He knew Jackson had already put the ad up – had heard him talking on the phone demanding that it happen right now and not a second later – so he knew he had to find it fast.

Stiles located the ad within a matter of minutes. There weren’t many wolves with a listed pedigree like the Hales had. Laura Hale was listed as a sibling, all the rest were registered as deceased, and that made Stiles’ heart hurt. Not just because Derek had lost so much, but because a simple search could have told Derek that his sister was alive years ago.

Stiles winced at the current highest bid for Derek; fifty thousand dollars and his finger hesitated over placing a bid. This was serious money; the kind that Stiles and the Sheriff only ever had access to in savings, even with Stiles’ band money. To blow this much on a wolf would have seemed like insanity to Stiles only a couple of weeks ago.

But Stiles jabbed his finger forwards to place the bid with Laura’s face hanging heavily in his mind. The site passively-aggressively told him that he couldn’t place a bid without registering and so Stiles fumbled through the sign-up process, his hands sweating with nerves.

He hesitated again over the placing the bid. It had risen to fifty-five thousand and Stiles’ hand fell into lap as he stared at that figure. That was more than his father earned in a year.

“Fuck.” Stiles hissed, running a sweat-slick hand through his hair. He hardly knew Derek, hardly knew Laura. And they were _wolves_. A voice in his head said that he was thinking with his dick, not his brain and Stiles flushed at the memory of Derek standing magnificently naked on stage. But Derek had been so scared, and in the bathroom-

Stiles shoved his laptop away violently and the time limit on the auction blinked at him. Six hours. He knew he often behaved recklessly, led by his heart rather than his head if he was being kind to himself, but this was beyond anything he’d done before.

Derek’s picture on screen looked at him and Stiles’ eyes blurred as he stared at it. Goddammit, he half-wished Derek had just stayed the hell out of their lives.

“Fuck!” Jackson’s sudden shout made Stiles jump so hard he knocked his head on the top of the bunk. He slammed the laptop shut.

“Stiles! Stiles!” Fuck, that was Derek. Stiles rocketed to his feet and got tangled in the bunk curtain in his hurry to get out. There was an incoherent cry of pain followed by a dog-like whine and Stiles ran down the corridor to the end room, only to stop, aghast.

Derek was sprawled on the floor of the small room, rocking in spasms of obvious pain.

“What-?” Stiles said. Jackson was stood over the wolf holding a black Taser that Stiles didn’t recognise. He was glowering.

“On the floor, where you belong, mutt.” Jackson said.

“Excuse me, Stiles.” Stiles started, having been frozen in horror, when he was tapped on the shoulder and moved reflexively to the side to allow the two men, one of whom was Chris Argent, past him.

“Must you have been so rough?” Chris sighed, looking down at Derek with an expression of professional apathy, “He won’t be able to walk to the truck now.”

Stiles watched Derek’s expression moved through from anger to terror to blind loathing at the sight of Chris Argent. Stiles put the pieces together in his scrambled head and felt sick.

“Were you Derek’s previous owner?” Stiles asked, his voice wavering despite his effort to keep it steady. He saw the look of hurt, of betrayal, on Derek’s face and Stiles couldn’t look at him. He felt sick with shame that he had paused over bidding on Derek. No amount of money was too much to pay for a person, for a life. Chris Argent barely looked over at Stiles and so didn’t catch sight of Stiles’ face, which he knew was doing a poor job of hiding his emotions,

“Yes, I was actually.” At the confirmation, Stiles’ hands clenched into fists and he felt a rush of anger like nothing he could remember. That Allison’s father, the man who had had Stiles around for dinner and been friends with his father and given Stiles his apologies for his mother’s death, like he’d cared – that man had abused Derek, sold him to an asshole like Jackson and had let him believe that his sister was dead.

Stiles wanted nothing more than to slam his fist into Chris’s uncaring face and break his nose, but he restrained himself. He needed to manage this situation and stop Derek getting hurt anymore than he already had been. And he had to let Argent think that Stiles was like him and Jackson; any hint of protectiveness over Derek and Argent might not sell him to Stiles.

“You want help getting him outside?” Stiles said, privately cursing Argent to hell, “He seems to have taken better to me.” Both Jackson and Argent turned to stare at him in surprise,

“We don’t need-” Jackson started angrily, just as Argent said,

“I was under the impression you didn’t like wolves, Stiles?”

“I’ve grown up.” Stiles said grimly and avoided meeting Derek’s eyes, staring up at him. Argent’s surprise turned to a pleased smile, even as Stiles knew the other band members were eying him with disbelief and suspicion. He just hoped they wouldn’t say anything.

“I’m glad.” He said, patting Stiles’ shoulder before looking back at where Derek’s eyes were still fixed on Stiles, though the wolf’s expression was unfathomable. “Well, if you think you can get him to co-operate, you’re welcome to try.” Jackson made a noise of anger but Stiles ignored him, looking down to catch Derek’s gaze,

“I didn’t teach you to behave like this, did I?” Stiles said softly, though perfectly audibly. Derek’s gaze was sharp and cold, “Get up, Derek. I thought we had gotten over these kinds of outbursts.” Derek didn’t move from the floor for several nerve wracking seconds. Stiles could see his nostrils flaring as he stared at Stiles and there must have been something in Stiles’ scent that convinced him because he finally, slowly got to his feet.

“Sir.” He muttered, looking at not Jackson nor Argent, but Stiles. Stiles swallowed, feeling sick, and forced his expression into a frown.

“An apology would be appropriate, Derek.” He said coldly. Derek looked like he wouldn’t comply for a second and Stiles held his breath, wondering if he’d pushed too far. Then Derek turned towards Jackson, who tensed, eying the wolf warily,

“I’m sorry for causing trouble, sir,” Derek said quietly, before looking to Argent. Stiles caught the slight tremor that passed over Derek as he bowed his head in front of Argent, “Master Argent.” He mumbled, finally returning to briefly catch Stiles’ eye and finishing with a quiet, “Sir.”

“Good boy.” Stiles said, focusing on keeping his voice flat. He put his hand on Derek’s shoulder and pretended not to notice the flinch, “Come outside, then and don’t embarrass me further.”

“Sir.” Derek said. Stiles hated the submission in both Derek’s stance and voice and his hand tightened on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek was slow in the restraints and Stiles didn’t hurry him. Chris had held Jackson back to talk to him but the other man who had come with Chris, dressed in black and heavily built, followed behind Stiles and Derek.

“Everything will be fine.” Stiles said, barely the movement of air over his lips but Derek clearly heard because he tensed under Stiles’ hand and his shuffling stride faltered. “Keep moving.” Stiles said, at his normal volume and Derek complied, though he glanced over at Stiles warily. “I’ll buy you, get you out of there somehow.” Stiles said, again very quietly. Derek kept moving, his head cocked towards Stiles, “You’ve just got to stick it out, alright? Don’t do anything to make Argent want to keep you longer.” Derek nodded minutely and Stiles released a heavy breath, squeezing Derek’s shoulder. It was all the reassurance he could offer. He had to make this work. The alternative was too painful to consider. He had a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...plot bunnies decided to show up out of the blue. I hope you like it and let's hope it won't be like a year until I upload again O.o Let me know your thoughts!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts! And also whether you'd be interested in me continuing with the story! Thanks for reading, and please do go check out my original works if you enjoyed this one :)


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